


The beginning of an Era

by Nematic



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: A lot of hatred between them, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Both are dealing with homophobia, But first they must learn to trust eachother, Confusion, Crusades, Crusades Era Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Danger, Denial of Feelings, Discovery of their powers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Feral Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, First Meetings, Gay Sex, Guilt, Holy war, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Jerusalem, M/M, Mixed feelings, Pre-Movie: The Old Guard (2020), Priest Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Probably gonna be very explicit, Sexual Confusion, Shameless Smut, Smut, Someone isn't really copind well with immortality, The begining of an Era, The begining of their immortality, They kill eachother many times, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Virgin Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, a lot of anger between them, christian vs Muslim conflicts, fighting scene, funny moments sometimes, small age difference - Joking of this.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nematic/pseuds/Nematic
Summary: Yusuf kicked the longsword away with his foot, but his stare did not leave the face of the Frank.In Greek he then only said: "Stay dead!" He expected the fellow Mediterranean to understand this language. The face of his enemy changed to a determined stare of hatred, but he didn't reply. He just looked up and bared his neck further for Yusuf. The blade cut quick and deep, blood spilling down immediately.Or'Yusuf is struggling just as much as Nicolò with the realisation of their powers - and of course the connection they share'
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my take on the; "The love of my life was of the people I've been taught to hate" - "We killed eachother" - "many times, yeah".
> 
> Thank you to Gentlemoirai for beta'ing this first chapter (and hopefully more when both of us have more time).

A lot of inspiration for this story came after reading [this Tumblr post!](https://lucyclairedelune.tumblr.com/post/630861970874220544/some-fun-facts-for-the-old-guardkaysanova-1-the)

* * *

It had been the worst battle Yusuf had yet been forced into. The most crimson sides of war were explicitly revealed for every partaking soldier. 

The screams and crying of men knowing the end of their torment will only be brought to them by their own death - the horrid scenes of never ending fighting and the silence of the dead during the night - would be the destruction of every mind if one did not close it all out.

Everywhere was a mess of dead bodies and horses, destroyed wagons, and endless amounts of sand from the unkind desert.

Yusuf was, as the only son of an important merchant, sent out to prove his father's honor. It would very possibly be the end of his life, but the greatness of what he could achieved would radiate on to his father, sisters and their families, forever claiming that the glory belonged to them. 

He had, as a skilled fighter and captain, already accomplished much in the last years of ongoing war.

This battle was supposed to be his last, before he could finally return home, retiring after years of dedicated service.

That it would be while he was still _alive_ was much to everyone’s surprise, but certainly only made him that more successful - even his own father had not dared dream of it.

Of course, this only applied _if_ he could get through this final campaign.

Unfortunately, this last battle of his had turned into the hardest in every way. The Franks had outnumbered them at the outskirts of Jerusalem, times three at least.

Though, they were weakened by the hard life magnified by the ruthless desert, they had had an incredibly strong will to keep the fighting going. 

Yusuf had quickly located one of the most skilled fighter he had ever been witness to - possibly as good as himself (though he would never admit that out loud).

Even his brothers in arms had noticed the resemblance, teasing him with how the pale Frank would be his first real match in combat. 

On the third day of the battle, when the full forces of the two armies had eventually clashed, Yusuf had finally been close enough to approach the skillful, pale, young enemy fighter.

He had locked eyes with his foreigner-bright ones.

In them, he saw that the Frank too had recognized him - maybe as the captain of the opposite side, who had been cutting down many of his countrymen?

The gaze between them was resentful, but with a bit of mutual respect for each other's skillset. 

They were both on foot by then, as their horses were lost earlier on in the fighting, that had now turned into close combat.

Their swords flew and danced between them. The sound of metal hitting continuously made out the rhythm as they moved around each other, every perfect attack being just as perfectly countered. 

Yusuf could not help but admire the grace at which his dueling partner was moving. It was impressive how the young lean fighter could maneuver the heavy steel of his longsword, making it seem like it was just a natural extension of his body.

The fight dragged out for a long time - sweat and strain were beginning to show, but they refused to give in. Both kept looking for a weakness to go for, being extra careful at scanning the situation constantly. 

A lot of attention had been brought on them by the surrounding soldiers. They had given them space on the field for them to continue undisturbed their one-on-one battle, while they also kept on fighting each other alongside them.

But, they hadn't been able to continue evenly, as the Franks had been advancing, making Yusuf's outnumbered men fall back.

A couple of bold Franks had wanted to get into the fight, maybe to end it quicker and thereby getting a small part of the glory - but the talented young Frank had called on them, to force them to stop.

He was at least a man of honor, much like Yusuf himself, but the intrusion had made the Frank a bit distraught for the next move.

Yusuf's scimitar impaled the young man's stomach through a weakness he had noticed in the enemy armor.

The Franks skin of his face turned impossible more pale, his eyes wide with surprise, and his mouth half open.

Yusuf had had no time to celebrate, as he had received a longsword cut deep to his side, in just the next second from the injured Frank himself.

They stood frozen, as everyone around them slowly realized the outcome of their duel.

Yusuf then drew his scimitar out of the Frank in one quick movement, blood following after - the Frank signing in pain, his hands pushing in on the deadly wound in his gut. 

Next, Yusuf held tightly to the longsword at his side, drawing it out of his own body with the other hand. He gasped loudly at the extensive burn he felt inside, making him tremble to his knees.

The blood-covered weapons fell quietly out of his numb hands, down into the little gap of sandy space between them.

The battlefield in the desert was quiet for what felt like a long moment.

They groaned lowly in pain, blood running down both men's uniforms, preparing themselves for their final moments.

They fell in unison to the ground, both bodies giving up, no longer possible to be held up by their fading stubbornness.

The fighting around them increased in some incoherent scream of reaction, leaving them alone, facing each other in their final moments, only a short space separating them. 

Yusuf observed how the life was leaving the young blue eyes slowly, the brightness dimming out.

In his final pain-grieving moment, this was what he regretted: having been on the opposite side of such a talented young man, only for them to end like this, never having a chance to meet as anything but enemies. 

He despised war, and all the horrid costs.

And then he too died, bleeding out beside the Frank he had come to admire in such a short amount of time. 

* * *

It had been dark when he awoke. 

Air filled into his lungs, making him sit up painfully quickly, coughing viciously. 

The battlefield around him was quiet.

The sea of dead bodies surrounding was devastating, but he could not focus on this. 

Confused he moved some of his garments away to inspect the deep cut at his side. Only, he didn't find anything - the skin was unbroken. 

Perplexed he looked around himself. His weapon still lay close to him, but the dead young Frank was gone, his possessions too.

Other Franks had probably dragged his body off with them, wanting to give him a better farewell than the mass graves of all the fallen. 

He would have liked the same thing to have happened to him, but he was still confused as to why he wasn't dead in the first place?

Had the last moments been a dream? Had someone just knocked him out, as he had been fighting the Frank? 

It had felt pretty real to him - he could still remember the excruciating pain at his side, and then the cold feeling growing inside his body as he bled out on the ground, his vision slowly decreasing into black nothingness.

He also clearly remember the look in those bright blue eyes, as they had been lifelessly looking forward.

He had a lot of mixed feelings about the death of this particular enemy, though he did not understand why.

There was too much death around him, too much confusion.

His focus became on finding some quiet place, away from it all, and then hopefully getting an idea about what to do next. 

After some time wandering to the outskirts of the battlefield, leaving the extensive sight and smell of death, Yusuf had found himself in the desert walking towards the light of a distant fire.

It was partly in the direction of his own legion's encampment, therefore he believed it to be a friendly group possibly falling behind the main part of the army.

As he got closer, he recognized the outline of only _one_ man, but still hoped to find some water or maybe information about the outcome of the battle.

The man, who sat down with his back towards Yusuf, looked to be wearing the attire of his own unit with the long white cape over his shoulders.

It made him relax a bit, as he was happy to be joining a familiar soul. As he came closer he did notice a couple bloody stains on the uniform. His ally was probably injured, being the reason why he had fallen behind. 

Almost at the fire, Yusuf called out to the man in his native Arabic tongue. " _My brother, I hope you are well? By God's will, we both shall live for one more day._ " 

The man didn't turn towards him, but nodded with his head to his side to greet him. Yusuf found it a bit odd, but guessed the injury could be preventing the man from speaking too much. 

Yusuf came close, standing beside the man, and warmed his hands by the fire for a moment. " _Peace be with you, this is a nice change. Have you seen the direction of the rest of the legion?_ ", he then asked.

But before he could turn to get a better look at the soldier, the man had suddenly stood up from the ground, causing Yusuf to turn in surprise.

The next second he could do nothing but observe the before hidden longsword that was now penetrating him deeply in his gut. 

Looking up in painful surprise, he easily recognized the blue eyes of the Frank! The Frank he knew to have done the exact same thing to, just hours ago!?

The Frank that had definitely died by his hand!

How was this possible? Had he missed somehow? But he remembered watching the life leave the dead body before him. But, the man in front of him was very much alive - what was happening? 

The agony of his trembling body became too much, as Yusuf fell to his knees. The Frank looked to be just as confused, having recognized him as well, but stood quietly in front of him.

He redrew his sword, making Yusuf fall the last part to the sand covered ground. He died liked that, bewildered, disappointed and painfully alone - again!

* * *

When Yusuf woke up next, daylight was burning down on him.

He knew for a fact then, that he must have died the first time and gone to hell. How else could he explain the repeated appearance of that particular Frank, and the second death that had felt just as excruciating as the first?

He was sure, he was receiving his eternal punishment, though he wasn't really sure why? Hadn't he done everything Allah had asked of him? And his father as well?

But who was he to question the will of Allah. He knew his life hadn't been completely without sin, and therefore he would take this punishment as deserved. 

Though, looking around, it did feel very much like life before it. The desert just as warm and endless.

Confused, he walked for hours in the burning heat of the sun. Only late in the day, did he find the first sign of civilization. A small town of what looked to be farmers surrounding a green area at the bank of a large river. 

He approached the river further upstream, not wanting to be distributed by others. He just wanted to dive into the refreshing water alone, without questions about all the blood on his clothes. He was close to complete dehydration, as he finally was able to satisfy his thirst. 

A couple of moments later he noticed a movement not far away and hid behind a couple of bushes. Much to Yusuf’s surprise, it was that devilish Frank again!

He looked just as hardened by the desert and was resting now against a tree, eyes half closed. 

Yusuf crawled silently around the little opening in the vegetation and was soon right behind the Frank. 

He drew out his scimitar, and with a renewed strength (he had no idea where came form), he jumped out of his hiding. 

His blade was in the next moment pressed against, but not yet breaking, the skin of the neck of the startled Frank.

He sat completely still, with a shocked but also irritated glance up at him. His longsword laid by his side, but his hands came up to indicate surrender.

Yusuf kicked the longsword further away with his foot, but his stare did not leave the face of the vexed Frank.

In Greek he then said: "Stay dead!"

He expected the fellow Mediterranean to understand this language. The face of his enemy changed to a determined stare of hatred, but he didn't reply. He just looked up and bared his neck further for Yusuf. The blade cut quick and deep, blood spilling down immediately. 

Yusuf walked away from the now dead Frank he had left bleeding out on the ground. He really hoped that Allah would be pleased with him now and let him return to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is still very early in the process, but if you read it, I hope you enjoyed it so far!
> 
> Also; I'm on Tumblr, as 'Sunonsky' ;)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A smaller second chapter, as I'm still 'warming up' to writing about this historical time. I have no idea what I'm doing, and no practice or knowledge about this time. 
> 
> But I have a path planed out, and will try and get the story written down. ;)

Why couldn't he just get a small break?

After weeks of fighting back and forth, killing each other over and over - and again and again - in the most brutally, swiftly, dragged-out, but sometimes also merciful and simple ways – nonetheless, Yusuf was getting really tired of it all.

The endless killing - the hatred they both expressed in words and embodiment, in angry clashing of swords and hitting of rocks - it was getting all too tiresome and exhausting for his liking.

Why wouldn't that bastard son of a Catholic whore just stay dead? Was it too much to ask for maybe just a single quiet day? One without bloodshed or guts spilling?

Somehow, their paths had crossed so many times, that it was impossible to just ignore the other's present. 

Yusuf didn't understand why the Frank wouldn't just leave him alone, and travel back to his own people?

And he also didn't know why the heathen Frank, with the pale skin and bright blue eyes was all he ever thought about... It was a true curse that wouldn't leave his mind alone. 

That night, when they had found each other again, alone in the desert, Yusuf had gotten an advantage and was now sitting atop of the Frank, who was laying on his back on the ground. 

He was pressing the Franks hands down above his head, and was quietly looking at him while trying to catch his breath. Both breathed heavily, sweat clear on their foreheads.

Their weapons had been out of reach, and they had just been fighting each other with their bare hands, and soon ended up wrestling on the ground. 

Yusuf didn't speak to the man, as he knew it would be futile to get anything but foreign curses or Greek swearing back.

The Catholic just didn't ever seem to cool down on the profanities - Yusuf couldn't understand how he could possibly know that many different ways of presenting his resentment. 

The Frank too looked to be done with speaking for the rare moment, still catching his breath as well, angrily looking back up at him while trying to shake Yusuf off him - but Yusuf knew to hold tight, and didn't let the deadly Frank out of his sight.

He just looked resentfully down into the familiar blues, a shiver suddenly going down his spine.

How the hell did he stop this as-if-possessed man in following him through eternity, killing him on every given occasion? Until he might someday find the right way, that would mean a forever-death for himself.

He sat on top of him for a while, his face not that far from the man underneath him, and was just quietly observing the stranger for a moment.

His features was more alluring to him than he would like to admit, with the longer sliken brown hair, light trace of a beard (compared to his own thick one) and those speculating bright eyes. 

An unpleasant thought entered his mind. Why did he sit so close to this foreign man? Why hadn't he moved away sooner? Was he allowing some sinful nature to enter him? Was this really the test Allah was giving him?

Yusuf did not waste any more time, and quickly wrapped a hand closely around his neck, the other still holding down his arms.

The Frank fought against him vividly, but Yusuf had the upper hand in this, and soon life left the body beneath him once again. 

He got up quickly, and found some rope in the saddle bag on the horse the Frank had been travelling with. Yusuf's own (just as stolen) horse had been killed a couple of days before by the harsh surroundings. 

Yusuf had died of thirst not long after his horse, but then come back to life again to just keep wandering off on foot.

It seemed that even dying on his own wasn't enough to keep him from coming back to life again – it wasn’t just the Frank that couldn't make him stay dead. 

He tied up the hands and feet of the still lifeless Frank, and threw him up over his shoulder. He was heavy enough, but Yusuf had a plan - and time was of the essence.

He walked perturbed over to a stone hill, and found a large rock - well, more a part of the hill that had broken off. It was at least larger than Yusuf's own height. 

He threw the body down, and tied the motionless Frank tightly to the huge rock, robe going many times around his middle. 

Satisfied with his work, he walked back to the horse, who had just been standing uninterested not far from the small fire. 

He could hear then, that the Frank was waking up, coughing as his throat probably felt sore. 

He only glanced once over his shoulder, and confirmed that the young man was certainly - and apparently inevitably - alive _again_.

This time had also not been enough for making him stay dead - but Yusuf had already more than a couple of weeks ago abandoned the idea of just finding the 'right way' to kill the man, that would make him stay dead. They seemed to simply not being able to staying dead, no matter the situation surrounding the death.

The Frank had looked just as resentful back up at him, as Yusuf had been showing his contempt with him. 

He gave a small satisfied smile then, knowing that this time - finally - it would be impossible for the Frank to follow him on for a good long time.

And maybe finally, Yusuf could start his journey home to his family, knowing it would be safe - that he wasn't leading home some unstoppable noxious Frank with a murderous talent. The mere thought made Yusuf shiver - he was not risking the life of his family like that, but maybe this could be the chance? 

And then Yusuf rode away into the dark, leaving the Frank to his own destiny. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also; still very much a 'first draft'. But needed to get it down - then mistakes will be (hopefully) caught later on. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it so far anyway?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess the chapters will be longer as the story progresses. 
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes - it's still so new.
> 
> *A small trigger warning for this, but nothing bad happens, I promise.

The larger encampment of nomads had gladly welcomed Yusuf that night after his smaller heroic efforts.

Yusuf had been close to the entrance of the encampment, when a group of armed bandits had attacked in the cover of the darkness.

Yusuf had quickly heard and understood that something immoral was going on, and then arrived at the scene in time to help the nomads fight off the thugs (a much needed help as they had been overrun by the wicked men), and now the nomads all thanked him and asked him to stay.

He had just passed a smaller town, as he was trying to get any news on how the siege of Jerusalem was going. He hadn't really learned anything specific, just that the war was still ongoing, as the Franks just wouldn't stop their invasive efforts. 

He had concluded it safe enough to try and travel further back to his family. The road had then led him to meet the nomads.

Now, he was presented to the leader, an older man with an impressive grey beard. He had laughed with Yusuf and shared his food and wine as thanks to his efforts. 

He was overjoyed and had claimed that he wanted to grant Yusuf a reward. He had then showed him into a larger tent. As this was quite a large encampment, Yusuf had no idea of how many people actually lived there. 

He had been very surprised to be suddenly pushed into an area filled with pillows, drapes and exotic blankets all over.

But mostly, he had been surprised to the point of shock by the lightly dressed women who was sitting or lounging around the room that was casually looking at the men who had entered. One had even gone up to greet Yusuf, standing in front of him with her head inclined, making her interest known.

She was certainly a very attractive woman, with long dark hair going down her shoulders and covering some of her breasts that was otherwise very visible behind a transparent silky clothing.

He quickly understood, that this must be the harem of the leader, who clearly was displaying that he was someone very important and powerful. 

Yusuf looked away from the unbiased woman with a confused and embarrassed expression, excusing himself as he didn't wanted to be suddenly dragged into the madness of an unknown man's harem.

It wasn't that he hadn't been with women before, but this was a little too much for his taste - a bit too vulgar even for a drained man of war.

Slightly unimpressed, the leader then looked him up. Yusuf kept apologizing and feared that he was behaving inappropriately as a guests, but then the older man smiled as if knowingly at him.

He asked Yusuf to follow him, which Yusuf happily did - leaving the women behind. 

Relieved, but still not sure he was off the hook, Yusuf reminded himself to not reject the next offering of gratitude. It would be too impolite, and he wanted no trouble.

The leader showed him a couple of moments later into a much smaller and more darkly lit tent. 

It took a couple of moments for Yusuf's sight to adjust to the dim light and understand what was actually presented to him.

Surprised, Yusuf now vividly understood, what the older man had deduced from his rejection before.

Why hadn't he just accepted before instead of being so caught up on formalities? He was always so concerned with his honor - it didn't really leave much room for diversions in his life.

He would have plenty of opportunity for that now, he signed internally.

The new offering was displayed right in front of him.

Tied to a pole in the middle of the tent, sat a beaten up young and lean man with his head bent slightly forward, his longer hair covering part of his face.

His skin were covered in bloodstains and his clothes wrecked into pieces - evidence of a quite rough treatment. His arms were tied behind his back, and then fasten at the wooden pole.

Much of the bright colored skin was visible, and even in the poorly lit room it was easy to see he was a foreigner - But he did not have to lift his head, in order for Yusuf to recognize him on first sight. 

Many weeks of endless killing had made him accustom to the frame of the Frank, the color of his fair hair - even his heavy breathing was familiar. 

Yusuf didn't show any sign of recognition on his face, as the leader then spoke. "Some of my men found him tied up deep in the desert. It seems he is a very _unlucky_ little Christian." He laughed a deep laughter.

"We believe him to be a priest - just see the heathen cross he wears." Yusuf noticed now the smaller chain with the slivery cross on the Franks bared chest. "At least that is all the information my men so far have gotten out of him."

Unbelievable - Yusuf knew close to nothing about the man who he had killed and been killed by so many times, who had followed him around the desert for many mounts - but these nomads knew much more by _one_ short encounter, of course with the help of persuasive hands, as Yusuf clearly deduced. He just hadn't ever deemed it important to ask any questions during any of their own encounters.

"That means," the older head of the nomads looked satisfied up at Yusuf, dragging him out of his own thoughts, "since the Catholic church is forcing men of belief into celibacy - that he very likely is an unclaimed soul." He spoke with a lowered voice in the local dialect of Arabic.

As Yusuf then looked down at the Frank, who was now looking back up at him for the first time. He clearly hadn't understood a word, but very possible what the intension was behind them. The hatred just as clear on his face as always.

"An angry virgin priest with a pretty face - it's really your lucky day." The old leader commented in his lowered voice, as he then turned a bit to look behind them. 

The man then waved his hand, and some men who had been standing guard at the entrance came into the tent. 

They untied the Frank from the pole as he was sitting down back towards it, and instead turned him around, to rest on his knees - hands refasten around the pole, as his face now was pressed firmly against it. He couldn't move if he tried to.

"And a nice behind as well - a fine payment for your troubles." the leader whispered only for Yusuf to hear. He smirked at him, and Yusuf could do nothing but laugh lightly back. He would be so screwed if they weren't leaving them alone.

The directness of their intentions was getting Yusuf to be quite uneasy - but he tried to stay calm and uncaring on the outside. This kind of offering was completely unheard of, except if you had money or power enough. He just didn't know how he could turn this down as well. He would just have to wait, for now.

"Now - You can have all the fun you wishes with him - we hold no judgement for our heroic savior." The leader then spoke as he now was turning away from Yusuf, leaving him standing alone by the Frank. "Don't worry, we will give you the privacy you deserve."

"Tomorrow, some of my men will take him to the nearest city, and find some soldiers to sell him off to. We don't care in whatever state he will be by then, just still alive of course." He smirked lastly before exiting the tent with his men.

Finally alone, except for the tied up Christian, Yusuf could sign heavily in resignation. He needed to figure this situation out.

He knew for once, that he couldn't just let the men turn the Frank in tomorrow - then the soldiers would surely discover his immortality (it was really a miracle the men in the encampment hadn't already done that).

The knowledge of an immortal Frank would surely be received as a bad omen. It would be a question of whether their heathen God really was greater than Allah? Yusuf was not going to start such infuriating events - he was starting to think himself that their ability had absolutely nothing to do with either gods.

Another thought was bugging him as well: If the soldiers got their hands on the pretty looking Frank, they would probably have their own fun with him - at least torture him for a very long time. That seemed inappropriately, not something he could just allow. (Was he getting soft on the Frank?) 

"Why are you taking so fucking long?" The angry Frank called out from his tied up position down in front of the wooden pole. "Having trouble getting a hard on, to do your devilish deeds, heathen?" 

Yusuf was quickly reminded of the foul language of the Frank - he wasn't so sure that he really could be that unsullied - if he really was a priest at all? Yusuf had his doubts.

At least his mouth was as wicked as any other soldiers'.

"Even tied up, you are a pestilence Frank. Why don't you shut up?" He replied back sharply.

"Why, Moor? Are you more used to men willingly accepting your diseased-infected cock? How proud your mother must be..." The Christian added dryly. The bastard wasn't giving up, and Yusuf wasn't blocking it out well enough - letting himself be infuriated by his words.

He went down and pressed his now drawn scimitar to the chin of the Frank. "You shut the fuck up, or I will make sure of it myself." Yusuf hissed at the tied up man. 

"I'm nothing like you think - this was not my idea, and I'm not going to ever touch your fifthly body with anything but deadly intent." He continued agitated.

The tied up Frank was finally falling silent. Surprise and maybe even a hint of panic was detectable in his facial expression.

Yusuf wondered if he really was afraid deep down, that he might wanted to rape him. He was anyway, not even considering such sinful actions - honor and pride was cut too deep into his own soul (or at least so he thought about himself). He had been educated very strictly his whole life, which didn't allow for such vial things.

But what was he going to do? The situation was far from ideal. He then bent down closer to the Frank's face.

"If you try anything," he warned still holding his sword up, "I'll cut out your heart and feed it to wild dogs. Then we will see, if that's something you can heal back from." 

Yusuf had said so in a low and determined voice, letting the guy know, that he was only getting one chance. 

He then cut the shocked Frank free of his constraints. He still had the sword raised, as the Frank now turned around, sitting down for a moment as he caressed his now freed hands. 

"If we are getting out of this, I need to know you won't kill me any chance you get?" He looked sharply down at the guy. "If they catches us, I don't think they will be that forgiven." 

"Why?" The Frank asked still bewildered. "Why are you helping me?" He slowly got up from the floor. "Why do you care?" 

"It's not okay to treat anyone like this - not even the enemy." Yusuf honestly didn't understand it either, and had no other answers for him. 

They stood for a moment silently watching the other - Yusuf still holding his scimitar, but lowered.

He then looked around and found some abandoned clothing at a table. He threw it over to the Frank. His old clothes was completely wrecked - Yusuf did definitely not glance a bit too long at his almost naked muscular chest. 

While the Frank got dressed, Yusuf walked silently over by the entrance. He scouted out, and found that the old man had been telling the truth - no one seemed to be anywhere near the smaller tent. 

At the entrance, he found something else that made him halt for a second. The longsword of the Frank - the weapon he had felt the ruthless touch of on his body so many times, was left at the opening. 

He quickly took it, but hid it under the larger robe he was wearing over his back.

"My horse is tied up close to the entrance. It's not far from here." Yusuf then commented in a low voice, standing close to the entrance again.

"Your horse?" The Franks replied unimpressed, now fully dressed in the nomad clothing. He looked like one - except for the light skin on his hands and face, and the fair hair on his head. But in the darkness that would be hidden well enough for them to escape.

"You mean, the horse you stole from me, after having killed and tied me up to that godforsaken rock, for these vicious people to then find me there - unable to defend myself against anything or anyone?" The Frank walked closer to him, with an icy glare and balled fists.

"I have no regrets about the past." Yusuf defended himself. "You wouldn't stop following me everywhere, always trying to kill me on sight!"

"I had no other choice, you wouldn't stay dead!" The Frank almost yelled back.

"The people here are not vicious - they have just been through a lot with the ongoing war." Yusuf continued, but this wasn't the place for any arguments like this.

He cut in: "We need to get out of this encampment, before the sun sets." The time-sensitive issue was understood by the Frank, who just nodded in agreement. 

* * *

The cold air of the night was hitting them in their faces, as they rode in haste through the desert, leaving the encampment behind in the distance. 

Yusuf was in the front, guiding the horse to go faster with a quick kick at its side with his legs. The Frank was sitting close behind him, arms pressed tightly around Yusuf's middle to keep his balance during the high speed.

They rode in silence for a long time, the sound of the movement and breathing of the horse the only thing making any noise around them. 

Yusuf was relieved that they hadn't run into anyone during their escape, as he wouldn't have liked to have been forced into fighting against the very same people he had fought for only hours before. 

But if the nomads had found him with the Frank, and understood that he was trying to help him escape... They just wouldn't have been able to understand any reasoning from Yusuf - he would look like a traitor in their eyes. The leader had clearly displayed his power and wealth - Yusuf would had been in big trouble with trying to fool someone like that. 

How was he supposed to explain anything to them anyway, when he didn't even understand why himself?

" _Nicolò_." The Frank suddenly said behind Yusuf dragging him out of his thoughts, but he couldn't really hear it. "What?" He replied over his shoulder. 

"My name - it's _Nicolò_ , _Nicolò di Genova_." The Frank repeated, this time closer to Yusuf's ear, the accent clear when he mentioned his name.

"Ah, Nicola!" Yusuf repeated over his shoulder - the Arabic version of the name he heard. "I'm Yusuf, Yusuf al-Kaysany." 

They stared at each other in the close proximity for a moment, until Yusuf had to turn his head forward again to guide the still running horse on. 

He didn't understand why he was suddenly so drawn towards the face of the Frank. To Nicola. But at least the all too familiar expression of hatred and disgust had vanished somewhat for the moment. They both had looked with a more speculative glance.

Yusuf couldn't help but wonder, if somehow their destinies was meant to be entangled. What would actually happen, if they stopped killing each other?

But he knew no other way to treat the treacherous Franks, it seemed like a very far stretched idea. 

And so they rode through the night, and the most of next day as well.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To no one's surprise, they have different opinions about what really happened... And on anything at all, for that matter.
> 
> Nicolò isn't taking the changes as well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in one go today (26/10-20), and just wanted to post it immediately - so here you have it, mistakes and all. ;)

"This does not mean that I won't _ever_ kill you again!" 

Yusuf looked surprised up at the Frank's word, after having been sitting in silence staring into the small fire. "You can try!" He whispered _almost_ only for himself to hear. But it wasn't as if he had expected anything less from the combative Frank.

"... _But_ I am grateful for you helping us out of there. It had been difficult without you." _Nicolò_ , as he now knew his name to be, looked honestly back at him, ignoring the little comment from Yusuf. 

They glanced at each other for a moment, the tension still thick between them. They had found a quiet place to camp for the night, by the foot of a mountain. There was even a smaller cave they could sleep in. They hadn't got a lot of stuff with them, but Yusuf had went by a smaller farm they passed and gotten provision for them.

"I'm sure what you _really_ are trying to say, is 'thank you for saving my life'?" Yusuf scuffed taking a bit of his dry piece of bread, not impressed with the Christian's weak appreciation of him freeing and fleeing from his own people.

"Saving my life??" Nicolò looked disagreeing at him. " _You_ were the only reason I got captured in the first place! If you haven't left me tied to that fucking rock, you would never have had to 'save me' in the first place." 

"What? Are you seriously not getting how that was the only way..." But Yusuf was cut off by Nicolò.

"It's easy to declare yourself a hero, when it's a consequence of your own faulty actions." Nicolò irritated declared.

"I'm not!" Yusuf spat at the thickheaded Frank. "I was just sick of tired of your endless attempts on my life, and wanted to get as long as possible away from you!" 

"Attempts? I recall quite a large amounts of successful deaths I bestowed upon you, slow old man." 

"Slow? Old? I'm barely that much older than you? How old do you actually think I am?" 

"Forty-five? Fifty?" The Frank suggested, but couldn't keep a straight face as Yusuf looked wounded by his guesses. 

"Relax, old man." He said with a small smile. "I have no idea - it's like your kind of skin and tendency to cover your whole face in dark hair impales the possibility to age determine you." 

It wasn't as if Yusuf didn't follow the reason behind the otherwise hurtful and foreign impression of his people in general. He too felt that the Frank's was difficult to even distinguish from each other - all bale skin and stubborn blue eyes... 

"I'm thirty-five, you prick." He just replied shortly, then added. "And what about you? Did you just leave your mother's warm breasts before being sent to war? Have you even got any hair on your balls yet?" 

The directness of his insulting words hit the Frank with a frozen impression, apparently he hadn’t expected Yusuf to reply with such engraving description - They both start laughing at their foolish banter. 

"I'm twenty-nine." Nicolò simply said then.

"Could have fooled me…" but Yusuf was still smiling as he looked at the fire again, finishing the last of his bread. 

They sat in silence again. The uncomfortable tension still ever-present between them. 

"Are you really a priest?" He looked skeptically at Nicolò again. He wanted to know if the interrogation of him performed by the nomads had led to correct information or just some more Catholic lies.

"Aren't you a bit too young to have chosen to give up on the true joys of life, and dedicate it to your foolish God instead?" He asked provokingly.

Nicolò looked back at him with small mistrustful eyes. He clearly was pending for what he wanted to actually share with his enemy.

"Don't you need to have some actual life experience, before you can be a preacher of what it's supposed to mean - all of the pain?" Yusuf said mockingly. 

"I don't care about your infidel ideas." The Christian just replied after a thoughtful moment. 

"So that's a 'yes' then." Yusuf concluded lowly. 

They both stared into the fire again.

"Well, my father is a merchant - that's what I'm going to be as well after leaving this war." Yusuf found it only fair that he shared something in return, especially in the light of how the nomads probably had beaten the truth out of the Frank. 

"Well, as I now have left the war... I guess." Yusuf didn't know exactly how his disappearing from the last battle would be interpreted as anything but him dying - the news would probably have spread by now - so he needed to get a story ready for when he suddenly would be returning home - very much alive. 

He expected his family to be grieving for his death already, and it sadden his soul to have caused such pain. He prayed to Allah that they would be alright until he returned to them.

He found that the Frank was looking at him, with a questioning expression.

"What?" Yusuf asked breaking out of his own clouded mind. 

"You still expect to be returning to your family?" Nicolò asked frankly. 

"Eh, yes. That's my plan. Why? Are you not going home to yours?" He said as he didn't understood what his new companion was getting at. 

"All of the men in my battalion and the officers watched me die on that field." A pair of emotionless eyes looked directly at him - Yusuf wasn't giving in to the guilt. 

"Words will have spread. Anyone I knew all the way back to my home - will soon know of my death." Yusuf could guess as much, since Nicolò had been a very skilled fighter on the Christian side, they would certainly notice his death.

"It'll be impossible for me to return to any of them. And I can't risk anyone being suspicious, if I decided to try..." Nicolò continued.

The unspoken truth between them didn't need further explanation. Yusuf got what he was concerned with. Even Yusuf didn't trust his own people, if they found out about his immortality. 

His plan was simply not letting anyone know. The life of a merchant would be safe, he was sure of it.

"What happens, if you get injured right in front of your family?" Nicolò wasn't giving up on letting Yusuf understand his truth. 

"I won't - I'll be careful." Yusuf just spat.

"A horse could kick you, you could be ambushed by thieves, or simply just cut yourself on a kitchen knife." He tried to visualize the danger of normal life to Yusuf, but he refused to get carried away.

"They would discover your curse. They would not know what evil spirit may had possessed you - they would be scared and afraid." Yusuf did not like the picture Nicolò was trying to get into his head - he was slowly failing in keeping the uneasy feelings out.

"That's just you making things up!" He almost yelled back.

"People do dangerous things, even against family, if they are truly scared of something - or someone." Nicolò sounded like he was talking from experience, but Yusuf wasn't going to leave his family to grief due to the word of some random enemy. 

He had stood up from the fire, and turned away from the Frank. He walked into the cave - to get some quiet for all the mixed feelings he was slowly experiencing. He sat down on the bedsheets he had already laid on the ground there.

Tears was clouding his vision. How did the Frank just ruin everything he had planned? Why was he even listening to his profane words? That was just the evilness of the Christians, always destroying everything, never caring for anyone else but themselves.

But why would he then try so hard to convince Yusuf of this? If the Frank was so selfish, why did he care what would happen to him if he returned home to his family? 

Yusuf spat at the ground - he would damn the Frank for all of eternity for wrecking his heart like this. 

Determined Yusuf wanted to go back to the Frank, to tell him off - when he lifted his head, and to his surprise, found a blade held just over his shoulder.

"Stand up slowly, heathen!" He heard the angry words of Nicolò behind him. 

He lifted his hands in surrender, and pushing up slowly from the blankets. 

He turned around, and found a pair of pain-grieving eyes looking at him. The Frank had clearly found his longsword, which Yusuf had tried to hide from him - at the side of the horse saddle, when they escaped from the nomads. He had apparently done a poor job of it.

"It's all your fault! You have no idea what you have taken away from me!" Nicolò yelled accusingly, tearful eyes looking vividly at him.

"What are you talking about?" Yusuf lowly asked, as he tried to calm the agitated Frank down, to get out of the line of his sword that was extended towards his throat.

"When you killed me, and cursed me with whatever evil Muslim magic you possess - you ruined my life!" Yusuf was slowly understanding, that Nicolò expected their powers of immortality to be something he had been the caused behind. At least, that was the reason when in agony.

He had no idea where he got the idea from - but guessed he couldn't blame the priest in him to be claiming their powers as anything but a curse. 

In Yusuf's experience, the Christians always tended to see the world as 'black or white' - blessing or curse / good or evil… not leaving much room for anything else. 

"I did everything that God and my church asked of me - I travelled to fight in his war, in this godforsaken barren place - to win back our holy land from the Muslim heathens! And for what?" He yelled outraged.

He looked to be close to madness, breathing heavily - sword still pointed directly towards Yusuf's throat. "To be cursed by a Muslim devil? To never be able to return home again or ever get the peace of death?"

"You know, all of this applies to me as well?" Yusuf said in a low voice.

The reality of the Christians words was slowly starting to sink in - he couldn't just go back to his family!

It would be foolish, and dangerous for all of them if they suddenly was accused of being conspiratorial with him, everyone around them would hate them - the honor of the family would be lost forever. All he had ever work for, was honoring his father - and now that he had, he couldn't go back!

"Shut up! It’s all lies…" Nicolò then changed to his own native Romance language, which Yusuf didn't understand - but he was pretty sure he got the profanity of it. 

"I didn't cause this, our powers... I have no idea how-" Yusuf tried, but a furious Nicolò was just yelling back. In the next moment, the world turned black as Yusuf fell to the ground.

Once more, life left his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to add more tags... I guess we will see, when there is going to be romance in this story xD (I promise it will come!)


End file.
